House
by Britchiche
Summary: A lot has happened since these two graduated. Unfortunately they've seen more darkness than light.
1. Chapter 1

"I never wanted to see you dead, Destiny. Never."

Destiny stared at the pile of envelopes.

_"Matthew? Next time, just send a card."_

She still didn't want to see him. Her doctor advised against it. Her family had just about banned it.

So here she was, re-reading the last lines of the latest note he'd given her.

Some messages were quick and easy -short scribbles on postcards about what happened in the week. Others read like diary entries. Those were sealed in expensive-looking stationary.

Most of his words threaded their way into her thoughts. Matthew showed parts of himself that Destiny never knew existed. She hadn't known there were times she'd pulled him away from suicidal thoughts. She didn't know he had dreams about Drew. She wondered if five years were really enough to bring two people together.

Destiny placed the stack back into its drawer.

_I'm getting better._

She knew she was. She'd made friends, looked forward to family visits, and found that reading Matthew's words no longer drained her and made her days blur.

"Miss Evans. It's almost nine-thirty"

"Thank you, Sister Janet."

Destiny watched the young woman leave and twisted to turn off her lamp.

She sank into bed, eyes on the balcony doors.

_I'll be home soon._


	2. Chapter 2

This was the harder part.

He'd figured he'd seen the worst of this process. He'd scraped his brain for pieces of his past. He talked until he was tired of his own voice. He'd obsessed over the notes Dr. Cavote wrote for herself. Matthew was more tired than he'd remembered being in a long time. No one told him that counselling was 80 percent self-improvement and 20 percent _guidance. _Despite the raw emotions he wasn't sure would go away, Matthew kept focused. He rubbed the back of his neck as he edited. He'd been working on this notebook for months, and was going to read through some final drafts with his psychiatrist in the morning.

_Some people define themselves by their achievements, by the money they have or by what they believe in. I define a lot of myself by my relationships. That can be a good thing, but can also be a bad thing when co-dependence and possessiveness start to play a role. For example, it's okay to protect someone I love, but it's not a great idea to do that by way of lying, cheating, accusing or using force against that person's will. The ends don't always justify the means. Valuing someone's opinion doesn't mean much if I continue to ignore it in the end. My life choices and my body belong to me. The lives and bodies of my family and friends belong to them, and not me. _

_I have less of a problem in forming attachments, than I have in viewing and maintaining them healthily. This could stem from the losses I've experienced growing up. A lot of my experiences have affected how I feel about myself. _

_Some would say a lot of these things are common sense. My family taught me about these things. I've ignored them over the last half decade. That doesn't mean I'm the world's worst person or that I should spend more years hating myself. It only means that I lost my way and needed a little help. I'm not in a good place right now, but I'm going to work and get to somewhere better. I may have burned a bridge or two. In my future, I'll build new ones._

Matthew closed the notebook_. _

Maybe one day he'd believe those last parts. Maybe then they wouldn't make his throat ache.

This was hard.

He strummed his fingers along the "get well" card. It was one of those accordion shaped ones, and had confessions grafitting all three pages.

He tore it as much as possible, then wrested his desk for something else to write on.

_We all have insecurities and we all have our weaknesses. It doesn't matter how strong we appear on the outside. _

Had he said that once? They sounded like someone else's words.

He turned his attention back to the blank paper.

**_"Destiny,_**

**_If me writing to you like this is making you feel worse, please let me know. I'll stop._**

**_-Matthew"_**


	3. Chapter 3

"Mani or pedi?" Dani was holding up two duffel bags at the threshold of Destiny's room.

Des winced at her nails. She'd picked and bitten at her best friend's paint job from last week.

Danielle tossed her bags to the side and walked in. The girls embraced and held on for a few moments.

"Um, neither?" Destiny pulled back.

"Alright, make-up then? We could do hair if you want."

"Can we just talk?"

Dani hoped the flash of panic she felt wasn't showing.

_Why should I be worried? She's starting to look better. _

Dani took a proper look at Destiny. Her friend's hair had been pulled away from her face and she'd worn a playsuit. She'd thrown on an over-sized hoodie, but still, she looked better.

"Nevermind. We should do make-up." Destiny hid her arms behind her back.

Danielle blinked "Hmm? No, no we can talk. It's just... if we talk about you hurting yourself, Des... you know I have to tell Dr. Verna, right?"

Destiny nodded and walked over to her drawer. "I want to show you something."

Dani waited on the room's loveseat. She paid more attention to Destiny's hollowed eyes than the small stack she'd just been handed.

"Have you been sleeping?"

Destiny rolled her neck, "Not really. Look at these."


End file.
